There could be lots of reasons why I didn’t blog my previous iPhone going in the sea. It could be that there’s not much to say about it (“don’t put your iPhone in the sea” is hardly new information), it could be that in the western wilderness of Pembrokeshire my only tool for blogging was waterlogged. But really it’s the pain. They say the pain fades: it still feels pretty raw to me. It feels cruel to be reminded.
For the record: we went to a beach where you can only get to the sand at low tide, and it wasn’t quite low tide. We had a 2 year old and a 5 year old with us, we decided to wade round and I volunteered to carry the latter (you can already guess what’s coming). I stepped into the water and discovered that the edge of the small wave concealed an extremely large rockpool. Which was very well hidden. Yes.
Me, nephew and phone all went in the water. Me cursed, nephew cried, and iPhone didn’t make any noise at all. Ever again. (After a couple of hours on the beach the tide had come back up to the point where we’d need to wade again: nephew declared that he wanted me to carry him. Slow learner…)
There are stories on the internet of iPhones that have gone into washing machines, toilets and worse and made it out. I put mine in a box of rice (no silica for miles out there) for several days, and changed the rice very day. Maybe it’s the salt? When I got it home I took it to the Apple store where it was officially pronounced dead, and replaced for £120. Which, incidentally, was just slightly less than what I would have paid in premiums if I had taken out an insurance policy.